


I Want To Be Hermione When I Grow Up

by orphan_account



Category: Harry Potter - Rowling, Vorkosigan Saga - Bujold
Genre: 100-1000 Words, Clones, Crossover, Fantasy, Gen, Original Character Death(s), Science Fiction
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-03-30
Updated: 2008-03-30
Packaged: 2017-10-07 21:32:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 781
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/69441
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jackson's Whole manufactures Harry Potter clones.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I Want To Be Hermione When I Grow Up

It was in July 2023 that the ruins of the peculiar castle were uncovered. Researchers, media and fans swarmed the site, looking for changing staircases and moving paintings. All was recorded, all was noted down, and samples of everything were collected. Still, the idea of Hogwarts was so fantastical that in the annals of science the ruins remained a question mark. For decades, then centuries, the phenomenon became little more than a historical curiosity.

The revival occurred when the books were re-filmed in 3D sensory cinema, long after Earth itself had become a historical curiousity. Suddenly, the old fantasy was a hit all over again. Kids loved it, adults loved it, teenagers pretended not to love it, but read it in secret, away from the cool crowd's eyes. Harry Potter was back.

The Baron had spent a great deal of effort and money to go back to the beginning, to the actual site, and to the historical museums and labs that still held the remnants of the collected artifacts. It had been worth it, he was sure, as now, finally, he observed the samples, tucked neatly in a row in his cabinet, in the deepest bowls of his research facility on Jackson's Whole.

He already had a backlog of pre-paid orders.

\---

"It's your turn, Mabel," said Tim, the orderly, smiling and extending a hand. "They've come to get you now. You're going home!"

The little red-haired girl squealed and ran into Tim's arms, who hugged her back and laughed. He ushered her off towards the chambers, to pack her belongings. Cathy watched jealously through her overgrown brown curls. No wonder the first one to go home would be a Ginny. The Ginnys were pretty, popular, and always stuck together. Cathy wasn't even popular for a Hermione.

"Don't worry," said Kalen, who was a Harry. She hadn't even noticed him showing up next to her, but there he was, and he squeezed her hand comfortingly. "It will be us next."

\---

"We'll have to put you asleep for a moment," Tim explained as he took out the little blue bottle. "Just a moment, and then they'll come and get you."

\---

There had been some anticipation – mostly among the fans – of magical or at least psionic powers manifesting in the clones, but there never was any sign of that, and certainly none manifested in the people who eventually came to wear them. The craze faded, as crazes do, and there was less and less call for the Hogwarts stock. The very last few clones who had been made in anticipation of excess demand grew older, past the twelve year mark, then the fourteen, then finally sixteen, at which point they were beginning to become an embarrassment. The House made a call.

"Ginny," said Tim, no longer young, and now higher up the corporate ladder, all the way up as head of the clone garden.

"My name is Wren," said Wren, stiffly. She didn't like Tim, even if he pretended everyone did.

"I'm sorry, of course." Tim's smile was equally stiff. His mind was already elsewhere, and he didn't like these children, who now represented a financial bad call. "Well, Wren, um –" he checked his comconsole, "Malcolm, Caleb... your parents never showed up. I'm sorry to say this, but they've abandoned you."

Wren blinked, but wouldn't let her face betray emotion. Both Malcolm and Caleb were holding her hands, behind her back.

They weren't stupid. They didn't know much – of anything – not what the world outside operated on, not what lies they'd been told – just that they'd been lied to, and that the only ones they could trust were each other. They did know to not just meekly swallow a sleeping potion. They knew the rotation of the guards, and that the hatch in the upper storey bathroom window still hadn't been properly fixed.

"We can offer you a contract. There's an opening in the Club R—"

"No thank you," said Malcolm quickly.

Tim tapped his fingers on his desk, appearing to think. "You will need a job on the outside. You will—"

"We want to leave," said Caleb.

"We'll look after ourselves."

Tim smiled, slowly, then barked a laugh. "I'm afraid it doesn't work that way. Forget the contract, kids. The House already owns you. We created you, we built you. You'll grow out of that rebellion, trust me – the House will make sure of that, too. Take them back to the garden." He gestured, and the guards stepped forward.

The three said nothing to each other as they were led back, but shared a look that said, clear as words, 'tonight'.

They couldn't have known, not really, that they never had a chance.


End file.
